


Play with Fire

by chrisevnas



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: All The Anal, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - No Powers, America's Golden Boy, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anger, Angst, Betrayal, Blow Jobs, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky's almost 21 but whatever, College Student Bucky, Depression, Drama, Fluff, Hero Steve Rogers, I can't tag much else without spoiling, M/M, Multi, Reporter Bucky, Rimming, Sadness, Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Steve is 30, They'll get together eventually, Top Steve Rogers, all of the angst, bucky is 20, doctor steve, for real this time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-25 02:48:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16652842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrisevnas/pseuds/chrisevnas
Summary: Bucky Barnes is struggling to find a good story to present to Shield's very own Nick Fury. Steve Rogers gives him one.ORSteve Rogers saves people from a burning building, Bucky Barnes wants to talk to him about it, and drama ensues.





	Play with Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is! The beginning of a new era, I hope. Let me know what you think, this is definitely my longest chapter I think I've ever posted, and I already have the second and third written and ready to go. I hope you guys like this story as much as I do. I'm very proud of it and I love the direction it will be going in. As always, I love you! Thank you for reading. xx

Bucky arrived two minutes too late.

 

In his defense, he was in the shower when his phone chirped with the notification that a local New Yorker had just ran into a burning building when the fire force had taken too long to save those inside. Even though he jumped from his bathing and got dressed in whatever he found first (a black robe and jeans, no underwear) he was still tardy, and the look on his camerawoman (and best friend) Natasha’s face told him she felt the defeat too.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Clint, the remaining member of their trio, reassured the pair. “The dude wouldn’t take any questions at all, anyway. Even flipped one of the reporters from DC off. It was actually kinda funny.”

 

Natasha shrugged, turning back to Bucky. “So whadda ya say, boss? Back to bed until the next one?”

 

Bucky’s eyes searched the crowd for anyone that seemed heroic, but he only saw people with soot on their faces and tears in their eyes, praising the man that saved them on Channel 5.

 

“He left,” Brock Rumlow, the asshole that worked for HYDRA Publications, their closest competitor, drawled. “Got in a fancy Rolls Royce and took off.”

 

“Do you know his name?” Nat asked, and Bucky would be upset with her for speaking to him if he didn’t know she could hold her own against Brock.

 

Brock nodded, rolling his head to crack his neck. “Yeah, Rogers. He’s a doctor or something. Apparently he was coming back from the gym and saw the fire. He asked someone on the sidewalk and they said they called the fire department like eight minutes ago and they still hadn’t shown up, so he dropped his shit and ran inside. Got six people and a dog out alive.”

 

Clint whistled low and Natasha whispered a curse. Bucky chewed intently on his lip, hardly noticing when Brock gave a half-assed goodbye and rolled out in the van his team always brought.

 

“That’s your ‘I’m gonna do something really stupid’ face,” Natasha grimaced. “What is it this time?”

 

Bucky released his lip and smiled at his friends. “Nothing that involves you. I just wanna talk to this Rogers guy.”

 

“Bucky,” Clint began, “The dude already said he doesn’t wanna be bothered. We need to respect that.”

 

“But think of the story!” Bucky fought back. “If I got the exclusive story of a guy that doesn’t want to tell it, imagine how fuckin’ peachy keen Fury will be.”

 

Nat frowned. “It doesn’t work like that, James. This man has a life— probably a wife and kids that he doesn’t want involved. He did a good deed and now he wants to be left alone. It would be worse for you to come out as a leech, which is far more likely than you getting him to sit down for a tell-all.”

 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Have you _met_ me? I’m the most fuckin’ charming thing Brooklyn ever did see. He’d melt in an instant.”

 

“I think that’s what she’s afraid of,” Clint murmured, pursing his lips.

 

Bucky sighed but nodded at his friends. “Okay, yeah. Sorry. You’re right, I shouldn’t… Sorry guys. It’s been a tough few months and I just really wanted this, y’know?”

 

Natasha rubbed his arm, none the wiser. “I know, James, but we’re gonna get you something really good soon, okay? I can feel it.”

 

Once Bucky made it home, he spent his time searching “Doctor Rogers NYC” and other keywords he thought might lead him to the hero. It didn’t take long for him to find Dr. Steven G. Rogers, pediatrician that had 5 stars on Google and 482 reviews. 

 

It was early the next morning that Bucky called the pediatrician’s office, asking to make an appointment for his son.

  
“Absolutely!” The cheery secretary responded, “And what’s your son’s name?”

 

“Bucky,” he said, matching her enthusiasm. “Bucky Barnes.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky’s appointment was Thursday, which meant that every waking minute until then was filled with his plans to charm the pants off of Dr. Rogers. He had gotten through his day of classes before he reluctantly strolled into his office, trying hard to work on something he didn’t have.

 

“Barnes!” Fury barked Bucky right out of his thoughts, making him grimace as he squared his shoulders to meet the executive. It was his monthly story review, and as it stood, he didn’t have shit.

 

“Sir,” Bucky addressed the older man, sitting in the stiff chairs Nick provided for his guests. “How are you?”

 

“Let’s cut the bullshit, Barnes. Where’s your story?”

 

Bucky sighed internally. “It’s… on its way.”

 

“Pardon?” Nick asked, leaning forward onto his elbows. His one eye (the one that wasn’t hidden under an eyepatch, a story he refused to tell Bucky but insisted that the cause was that their line of work was more dangerous than it seemed) gave him a calculative gaze.

 

“Um,” Bucky mumbled. “It’s on its way. I’m working on it.”

 

Fury sighed. “You do realize I don’t run a charity here, don’t you Barnes? I didn’t take a kid still in college onto my team for him to disappoint me. Shield is a spot for the best of the best. You do understand what I’m saying here, don’t you?”

 

Did he? Yes, he did. He was saying if Bucky didn’t get his shit together, he was gonna go back to being drowned in student loans, barely eating three crackers a day.

 

“Yes, sir,” Bucky confirmed, nodding twice. “I do understand. I won’t let you down, I’m too grateful for this opportunity to let it pass.”

 

Fury looked at him expectantly. “Okay, great. Get out.”

 

The brunet got to his feet, leaving a tight smile for his boss before he returned to his desk, deep in the corner with no one but the cracked window for company. 

 

He was, technically, the bottom of the food chain. The only reason he had even gotten a chance with Shield was because his chemistry professor, Bruce Banner, said he wrote incredible papers that captured him beyond what any other student had done for him before. He sent a few of Bucky’s best works to Nick, and next thing he knew, he was getting asked to join the team— temporarily.

 

Bucky always thought of himself as a seasonal employee. Natasha and Clint helped him out, free of charge, because they were his best friends and they needed a bit of experience of their own. Natasha, for example, wanted more than anything to be a cinematographer, and though Bucky didn’t usually go for live-news, he did ask her to tag along when he had the chance to catch a story in action.

 

Clint wanted to be here, there, and everywhere. He was always the one to edit Bucky’s stories, direct Bucky in his filmed interactions, and pretty much do anything else Bucky needed from him.

 

It was a big slap in the face from Life itself when he went form being praised by Dr. Banner, one of NYU’s most highly respected professors, to being told by Nick Fury that he was replaceable, and if he fucked up one more time, he’d be replaced.

 

Bucky stared at his blank computer screen for his remaining twenty-eight minutes of work before packing up his bags and taking the stairs down to the lobby. His co-workers always took the elevator, and after one ride with them, he realized he didn’t belong.

 

No other writers respected him, and he could hardly blame them. He was working with the elite of NYC journalism, and all he had shown them thus far was a decent piece about Coney Island and his incompetence in finding anything else worth writing about in a city that provides nothing but content.

 

Truth was, he really, really needed Steve Rogers to give him a story.

 

* * *

 

Dr. Steve Rogers’s office was not _exactly_ what Bucky had expected.

 

For one thing, it had gorgeous murals painted across the walls, each one telling a different story but somehow blending into the next seamlessly. On his way to the front desk he clocked a deep sea, a jungle, and a safari.

 

“Hi there!” The secretary welcomed him. “How can I help you today?”

 

Bucky turned his charm on, smiling at the woman who could be no older than he was— twenty. “Hi there,” he greeted casually. “I’m James Barnes, I made an appointment for my son, Bucky Barnes?”

 

“Oh, of course!” The secretary —America, her name tag read— responded, typing a few things in her computer before looking back up at the brunet. “And do you have Bucky with you?”

 

Bucky made a sheepish face. “Actually, my wife was gonna bring him. She didn’t want him to miss a whole school day just for this. But I’m more than happy to get back with the doctor and answer any questions he may have, to save us all some time.”

 

America beamed. “Excellent! Well Dr. Rogers is just finishing up with his patient, but a nurse will call you when he’s ready.”

 

Bucky agreed and sat down in one of the cushioned lobby chairs, much too comfortable for a children’s office. He looked at the fish tank in the corner, elaborate and filled with colorful fish that had kids flocking to it, poking the glass and giggling amongst each other. For the life of him, he couldn’t see _anything_ with Steve Rogers’s face on it. 

 

Bucky hadn’t been to a pediatrician since he was a kid himself, but he knows his had always been a lot duller than this. The office was incredibly vibrant and just screamed ‘happy.’ 

 

Bucky began to fantasize the man he was about to meet. Maybe a man that capped out just below six feet tall, lean but not a bodybuilder by any means. If he ran through a burning building and had just gotten back from the gym, he had to at least be in shape. 

 

He was probably in his late forties, early fifties. Bucky vaguely remembered his old doctors, and yeah, they had grey hair. Plus, Steve seemed like a very old-fashioned name to him (not that he had room to talk; his name was James Buchanan for Christ’s sake,) and he couldn’t recall the last Steve he had met that wasn’t at least fifteen years older than him.

 

He fell into a rabbit hole of fantasy until a handsome male nurse stepped out with a clipboard. He had blue scrubs and a bright yellow name tag that said, “HI, I’M SAM!” and Bucky thought that was pretty damn cute.

 

“James and Bucky?” he called out, giving a genuine smile to the overall population of the lobby. Bucky stood and grinned back, following Sam down the hallway and past all the rooms that were, surprisingly, just as elaborately decorated as the waiting room.

 

Sam talked over his shoulder to Bucky, “America was saying your son might be a little late, but Steve was hoping to get some of the standard stuff out of the way,” he explained. “Y’know, tell him about Bucky’s behavior, what brings you in today, any concerns you don’t want to bring up with him in the room.”  


Bucky just nodded and agreed loud enough for Sam to hear, nearly tripping over himself when the man stopped short at a teddy-bear themed room. Bucky was instructed to sit in the corner, on one of the two velvet chairs that held a teddy bear in each. 

 

“Steve’ll be in momentarily,” Sam informed him, smiling as he closed the door.

 

Bucky looked around the exam room, noticing the tiny details that went into the stuffed animal theme. Even the wallpaper, which from afar looked like tiny white polka dots, actually had tiny teddy bears and hearts alternating each other in a pattern. He couldn’t help but appreciate the fact that this Dr. Rogers was man with a good heart. Or at least his interior decorators let people think so.

 

A little over five minutes passed before Bucky heard a deep laugh outside the door. He straightened up immediately, trying to look like an innocent father. He could do this, he’d done worse for a story before.

 

But the brunet did not expect the door to be opened to the fucking sun himself.

 

Dr. Steven G. Rogers was the exact opposite of what Bucky expected. His lab coat seemed to scream for reprieve at the energy it was exerting to stay put around his preposterously enormous shoulders, and the stethoscope around his neck looked more like a suggestion of a place to hold it than an actual storage spot. His waist was slim, Bucky noted, and the man was definitely taller than Sam.

 

He had perfect skin, crystal clear baby blue eyes, golden blond hair, and God, that _body_. Bucky wanted to climb all over it.

 

Oh, and he wasn’t greying. Or old. 

 

Steve’s warm smile lit him up and he found himself returning it unwarranted. “Hi there, James. My name is Dr. Rogers,” he introduced himself, holding out a hand for Bucky to take. Bucky barely managed to shake his enormous hand and keep his mouth from dropping to the floor.

 

“Alrighty, let’s see here,” he said, shutting the door and plopping down on the stool that was absolutely too small for him. Bucky supposed everything was too small for him.

 

“So your son’s name is Bucky,” he recited from the papers in front of him. “No insurance or anything though?” he asked, looking up at Bucky through his lashes.

 

Bucky swallowed. “Uh, not yet. We just… moved here. From Russia,” he explained. It wasn’t entirely untrue, his mom and dad were immigrants from Russia.

 

Steve’s eyes widened. “Oh, wow! That’s very cool. Your English is impeccable.” 

 

“Th-thanks.” Bucky responded stupidly.

 

Steve nodded a few times as he read through his papers before setting them on the desk and smiling at Bucky. “So?”

 

Bucky really, really had to get his shit together.

 

“Sorry, I know this is probably so annoying. Just… can I use the bathroom real quick?” he asked meekly.

 

“Oh, yes, of course,” Steve responded kindly, opening the door and motioning for Bucky to follow him. He took up so much space that Bucky felt suffocated no matter how far away he stood from the man as he walked a few steps and pointed to the end of the hall. “Bathroom’s right there, be sure you put out the ‘Parent’ pass or else you might get walked in on,” he warned, winking at Bucky before returning to the room they’d just exited.

 

Bucky took exactly two minutes and fifty-eight seconds to pee, then wash his face three times, then give himself a tiny pep talk about how he was a _charmer,_ god damn it, and even Steve Rogers couldn’t pass him up.

 

Feeling more himself, Bucky returned to the room suavely, going for the patient’s bench rather than the velvet chair. Steve looked up from his computer and quirked an eyebrow, amusement in his eyes.

 

“Whatcha doin there?”

 

“I think it might be easier to talk to you if you can see me clearly when I do.”  


Steve’s eyebrows pulled together and he rolled the stool back a few inches so he could turn his body toward the younger man. (At least, Bucky assumed he was younger. He knew you had to go through a lot of shit to be a doctor, and even though Steve was fit as hell, he had to at least be in his late twenties.)

 

“What’s goin’ on?” he asked, concerned. Bucky nearly rolled his eyes at the man’s ignorance to his flirting.

 

Bucky chewed on his lip for half a second before responding, “So I told some lies today. But I have some truths I wanna tell you to make up for them. Which do you want first?”

 

Steve’s face went through several emotions before settling on skeptical. He leaned back in his stool, crossing his bulging arms over his ridiculous chest. “Lies, I guess.”

 

“ _My_ name is Bucky Barnes,” he began. “I don’t got a kid, nor do I have a wife. I ain’t even straight, but that’s besides the point.”

 

Steve frowned. “So, what can I do for you? A kid like you, what are you, nineteen? A kid like you doesn’t seem like the type to come to a pediatrician for drugs.”

 

Bucky huffed. “No, that’s a big no. I’m twenty, and I’m a journalist-“

 

“Oh, Jesus fuck,” Steve grumbled, standing from his seat and gathering his papers before Bucky could even think. Scrambling off his ass, (and most definitely ripping the paper from the exam table he had been sitting on) he barricaded the door with his body. 

 

“Wait!” Bucky exclaimed, desperation and adrenaline running through his veins. The much bigger man stood in front of him, not necessarily looking _angry_ , just disappointed, maybe.

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “Just move so I can get on with my day. I have actual patients that need actual help, not some fucking story for their shitty news outlet.”

 

Bucky might have been hurt, but he couldn’t find it in himself. “Steve, please? I came all this way.”

 

“Yeah, I noticed. A waste of everyone’s time. Move, would you?”

 

Bucky opened and closed his mouth a few times before planting his feet resolutely. “I’m not moving until you answer my questions.”

 

Steve gave him a look before hooking one massive arm around Bucky’s waist and hauling him to the side. Before the brunet could even process the movement, the blond was opening the door.

 

“Have a good day, Mr. Barnes. My apologies that I couldn’t be your cover story, but maybe you should go into private investigation. You’re pretty good at manipulating people.”

 

_That_  hurt Bucky.


End file.
